


Palimpsest

by Solovei



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Light Angst, Minor Original Character(s), Rare Pairings, Shippy Gen, Skald Tuuri, Storytelling, Troll Hunter Sigrun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5533829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solovei/pseuds/Solovei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><sub>pal·imp·sest - n.</sub><br/>a manuscript or piece of writing material on which the original writing has been effaced to make room for later writing but of which traces remain.<br/>something reused or altered but still bearing visible traces of its earlier form.</p><p> </p><p>An apprentice skald is sent to track down an elusive warrior, desperate to get her story for the great sagas. As their worlds collide, each will walk away changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Palimpsest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laufey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laufey/gifts).



> This was written as part of the [SSSS Secret Santa](https://ssssforum.com/index.php?topic=694)! I was obviously very excited to get someone whom I admire greatly as both a writer and artist, and as an all-around cool person (though she continues to say otherwise). 
> 
> Huge thank-you goes out to [Yuuago](http://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuago) for his spot-on suggestion of the title, as well as his encouragement and proof-reading.

The sounds here were so different, Tuuri realized. Her ears had become dull to all but the quiet scratches of quill against parchment, the whisper-sigh of pages. But here, there were a myriad noises, all manner of voices just out of sight -  bird calls and hoof thuds and claw scrapes. She wanted nothing more than to let down her heavy pack and rest, maybe spot one of the secretive creatures she knew were all around -- but she had a job to do, no matter how inviting that fallen tree or rock had looked. 

 

She reached her destination as the sun was setting. This wasn’t her intention, but it worked in her favor - nobody would turn away a traveller after dark, especially a young woman travelling alone. The dwelling was well-camouflaged from a distance, but as she drew closer it was easy to see signs of life; thin chimney smoke, stacks of firewood, fish drying on a line, some birds clucking noisily in their pen. It looked no different than any other house she has seen, its remoteness the only distinction. But for the first time since setting out, Tuuri felt afraid. These last few steps seemed the hardest, and she could not will her feet to move. 

\---

“You have heard of her, then?”   
“Just the usual gossip. They say she has killed a dozen trolls with her bare hands, that she fears no beast or man--”   
The old man’s laugh escaped his lips and bounced around the darkened chamber until it turned into a dry cough, and Tuuri got up to pour him a cup of water before he waved her back down. He took a few moments to steady himself before continuing. “I know that you haven’t always been happy, here in this place.”   
Tuuri looked down, fidgeting with her sleeves. “I like it well enough but--”    
He held up a hand again. “You came to us when you were very young. Too young, maybe, to have made the choice yourself. You want to see life outside these walls, don’t you?”   
“Yes! I mean yes, I do, more than anything.”   
“Mm… then I have a task for you.” 

\---

Summoning all of her courage, Tuuri reached out to knock on the door. Stepping back, she glanced up and around before calling out, “I seek the warrior Sigrun!” Silence was the only answer, and she was about to open her mouth again when the door swung ajar. Almost immediately, an axe blade thrust forward, fierce blue eyes locking her own. “Who wants her?” came the woman’s question.    
“Are… are you Sigrun? I am an apprentice under the skald Heimir. He… he asked me to find you so that… your great deeds may be sung in the great sagas…” Her words came out stuttered, betraying the confident speech she had practiced in her head on the way here.    
“Never heard of him.”    
"May I enter?” 

The axe was lowered slowly. Its owner stood a full two heads taller than Tuuri, expression slowly morphing from suspicion to something else, something harder. "Run home to your hall, little skald. You won't find what you seek here," Sigrun said, turning to close the door. Tuuri took a bold step forward.

"Please, it is dark and I have travelled far to meet you. I am unarmed and mean you no harm. At least... allow me to spend the night here."

Silence met her again, and Tuuri could feel Sigrun looking her over. "Fine," the woman agreed, stepping back into the house and leaving the door ajar. For a few minutes, the apprentice hesitated on the threshold, taking a last glance towards the forest at her back. She found herself, strangely, feeling homesick - not for the place she just left, but the place she was born, far away from here. A sudden gust of wind hurried her indoors, away from her thoughts.

The interior of the house was simple; a table, a hearth, one or two chairs, a bed behind a curtain. Something more akin to a farmer’s shack than the dwelling of a great warrior, Tuuri thought as she stepped carefully. Sigrun picked up an apple from the table, tossed it at her guest, and took her place by the fire again, bright orange flames reflecting in her eyes. This was the first time Tuuri had gotten a clear look at the famed warrior Sigrun. Her hair was perhaps the most striking feature, red like blood and fire. Even as she sat ungracefully by the hearth, tearing apart a piece of salted fish, Tuuri could not help but imagine how glorious she must have looked in battle, a shining blade in her hands, the sun glinting off her armor. She swallowed nervously.

“Do you have a name, little skald?” Sigrun asked suddenly.   
“Tuuri.”   
“That’s not from here, is it?”   
“N-no. I’m--” She began but a wave from Sigrun made her stop.    
“It’s no matter. So what do they say about me, out there?”   
Here, Tuuri chose her words carefully. Rumors about Sigrun varied - some claimed she was a beast herself, gifted with supernatural strength by the gods. Others say she killed every troll through trickery and wiles, never spilling a drop of blood. While looking for this house, Tuuri asked many people along the way to point her in the right direction, and at least half had tried to talk her out of it. But, looking at her now, this woman did not seem frightening or ferocious, more… sad. Yes, she seemed sad in a way that she didn’t want to show, a sadness that was turned inward, hidden, protected.   
“They say many great things,” Tuuri replied finally, watching as Sigrun smirked as if in disbelief. They passed their meal in silence and eventually Sigrun departed to her bedchamber, leaving the apprentice skald alone. 

Seeing no other alternative, Tuuri rolled out her blanket and curled up on the floor in front of the dying fire. She was exhausted from the long travel but sleep would not come to her. She couldn't return to Heimir empty-handed, but what else could she do? Sigrun seemed reticent to speak of her own life, or much else for that matter. Something must have happened, Tuuri thought, to make her this way. If she was really a famous warrior, why would she hide like this, out in a peasant shack somewhere? Unless… unless the rumors were just that, rumors. But if it wasn’t true, if Sigrun  _ wasn’t _ a famous warrior, then why all of this? By the dull flickering of the flame, she could see weapons lining the walls, swords and axes and bows and shields. Why else would a woman live alone in the middle of the forest with no husband to warm her bed or children to care for? 

 

When Tuuri awoke the next morning, the house was empty. She splashed some cold water on her face from the washbasin, got a fire going in the hearth, and sat down to wait for Sigrun to return. The woman had not invited her to stay longer, but she did not tell her to leave, either. She had to get that story from her. Her life depended on it; she did not want to be an apprentice forever, after all. The door opened and Sigrun poked her head in. “I’m going for firewood. You should come, little skald.” Tuuri yelped slightly in surprise and pulled on her boots, scrambling to her feet and running out to meet her host. 

As they walked through the forest, Tuuri felt herself relax. Even if this entire journey had been a failure and Sigrun wouldn’t relinquish her tale, at least she got to leave the town for a short while. There was that, at least. The woman called her over and she appeared at her side quickly. Sigrun was crouched beside a great oak tree. With her dagger, she pointed to a dark hollow between the roots, twisted and gnarled. “You see this, little skald? It’s a troll nest. Probably a few young ones in there, too,” she said, her voice more curiosity than hatred. 

Tuuri blinked, peering into the depths of the darkness. “What… what should we do?” she asked quietly. 

Sigrun stood up and sheathed her knife. “Nothing. No sense killing what isn’t after you.”  The skald was left to stare into the supposed nest, confused, nearly dropping her bundle of wood, until she realized her host had left and ran to catch up.

The forest around them thinned, giving way suddenly to a steep rocky hill. A valley stretched out below, and Tuuri stood, mouth agape, marvelling at the image she was seeing. Her life had been so small, first a tiny farm and then a tiny chamber with her writing desk, but this… she had never thought the world to be so big outside of the stories. The woman looked concerned as she looked out over the valley. Tuuri glanced from Sigrun to the sky, not understanding, hoisting up the firewood in her arms. "Is something the matter, Sigrun?"    
"Storm coming," she said simply before turning to go back the way they had come. "Come on, little skald." 

 

Sure enough, that night the heavy wind raged against the roof, sheets of rain pounding like a weary traveller. Tuuri sat huddled under a blanket by the fire, Sigrun opposite her fletching some arrows. 

"You want to know what happened, right?"

"Well... yes. It's why I came."

"So. How does this work? If I were to accept."

"You tell me your story is all. Your life, how you came to be such a great warrior... all of it. And then I will return to Heimir and he will write a great saga from your tale."

"Can you not do it yourself?"

"Well... I could, but I am not very good yet. I know my letters but to craft a saga is very hard work."

"As hard as fighting a battle?"

"Sometimes. When a blacksmith forges an axe or a shipwright builds a ship, they take things... wood, metal, and they make other things. With this, a skald must craft something out of nothing - out of stories left on the breeze, things he remembers."

Sigrun looked thoughtful for a few moments. "And that is the craft you train for?"

"Y-yes."

 

The storm had chilled the house greatly, and her woolen blanket was barely keeping her warm. She was considering fetching her travelling cloak from her pack and sleeping under that, when she heard a voice - Sigrun's - above the faint crackling of the dying fire. "Little skald. You must be cold. Come, share my bed." She froze, but this time for a different reason. 

The bed was simple but piled high with furs. It certainly looked inviting in the faint orange glow, but surely this was improper somehow? She was only an apprentice, barely above a household servant, and Sigrun... actually, Tuuri did not know the woman's status at all. Some people said her father had been captain of the King's guard, others claimed she was a farmer's daughter. Shrugging off her thin wool blanket, Tuuri stepped carefully over to the bed, removing her shoes and sitting down gingerly. "Are... are you sure this is fine?" She asked quietly.

"Yes. Now, sleep."

She lay for a while in the darkness, willing herself to sleep and failing. The furs kept her warm, and she could hear the woman beside her breathing, slow and even. Somehow, here in this bed, the tempest outside seemed far away, less dangerous. She could see small scars here and there on Sigrun’s skin - a few jagged claw marks on her elbow, faint healing lines down her cheek. Tuuri could only imagine the sorts of tales they told - fierce, glorious battles, hard-won victories, bitter defeats. She wanted to know so much about Sigrun, how she had come to be a famous warrior and how many trolls she has killed and what kinds of places she had travelled to.   
  


Tuuri awoke some time later to realize that someone was holding her from behind. She lay very still, not moving, gaze sliding around the darkened bedchamber. The redhaired woman seemed fast asleep, one hand wrapped around Tuuri’s waist and the other resting on her shoulder. Sigrun's hands felt rough, but not unpleasantly so. She smiled faintly and interlaced their fingers before closing her eyes again. 

\---

Tuuri had been with the warrior Sigrun for four days and four nights before she finally received an answer. Each night after the second, Sigrun had invited the young skald into her bed. She had been hesitant at first, but curiosity had urged her on, and she found herself becoming more bold in her affections towards Sigrun. Tuuri had taken it upon herself to be as helpful as she could during this time, looking after the chickens, fetching firewood, and any other small household tasks that Sigrun seemed to be quite unskilled at. She was sitting on the bench outside mending a ripped tunic when the woman came out of the forest and over the hill, carrying a quiver of arrows and two birds under her arm. She watched her walk closer and stand, finally, in the yard.    
“I have made my decision,” Sigrun said. Tuuri tried to keep her face still, emulate the grave manner of her host, but she knew she couldn’t.   
“Yes? What news shall I deliver to my master?”   
“I will tell you my tale, but only if you are the one to put it together. I know how these things are; word gets changed along the line once you pass it on."    
Tuuri was taken aback somewhat at that request. Could she do it? Moreover, what would Heimir say?    
“I… I could try.”   
“Blood has been spilled for this tale, little skald. I want it done right.”    
She nodded and followed Sigrun inside, but the smile slowly vanished from her face. 

 

Tuuri prepared the birds that night, filling the small house with the smell of roasting meat.  As they ate, Sigrun launched into her tale, suddenly and without warning.   
“I saw my first troll when I was twelve. My family and I were travelling and it attacked our group. Everyone said we shouldn’t have been travelling at night, but we were held up by a fallen tree on the road and my father wanted to make up for lost time. The king wanted him for his personal guard, you see. Anyway, the troll was a fierce thing, all spines and  claws, eyes glowing in the dark like a lantern. About the size of a bear I’d say, maybe a little smaller. My father, he… he knew how to fight people, but trolls… they’re not human. They don’t move like people, they don’t react like them. I’ve never seen him so afraid. So I grabbed his sword and did what I know you had to do with animals, I stabbed it where I thought the heart would be. It let out this… scream, I can’t explain it. Like an axe against a grindstone, but worse. Still, it was dead. It wasn’t moving, at least.”   
She paused and took a drink from her cup. Outside, an owl cried out rhythmically.    
“When we arrived in the capital, the king had heard about what I’d done. He had be trained in combat, hunting, whatever it took. And I… I guess, I liked it. I liked the danger, the rush. There were a few others, but I was the best, and I knew it. I’d charge in without a plan, axe in hand, and fight my way out. Whenever there was word of someone disappearing, or someone had found a nest, we would go there and deal with it.”    
Here, the woman took a long breath and let it out. “There was a … someone who found me. Said I was a… a great warrior, and asked to be my apprentice. I’d never taught anyone before, but… seemed like a good idea. Why not, I thought. And it was nice, for a while. We were summoned to the court, asked to go check out a village down south. Lots of troll sightings, they said.” Sigrun paused again. Tuuri noticed that she seemed to have trouble getting the words out. Part of her wanted to reach across the table, take her hand -- but she refrained. “Anyway, I… we went in, there was… four of us. Me, my apprentice, and two others. I should have looked out for them. Been a leader. They don’t tell you that, you know. They teach you how to use a sword or an axe or a shield but they don’t tell you that there’s more to it than that. And I was stupid. I got carried away.”    
Her voice became quiet, like distant thunder. “I was the only one to make it back. Do you understand? I let… I let them die.”   
Sigrun was silent for so long that Tuuri was unsure whether there was more to her tale. “And the worst part, little skald… the worst part was going back. Because they hailed me as a hero, they sang their songs and gave me gold and finery from far-off lands. As if nothing had happened. As if I hadn’t… let her down. After that, I couldn’t really take it anymore. I packed up and found somewhere far away, where nobody knew my name, where nobody would dare come look for me again.”   
Sigrun shoved her chair back with a scrape, “So... there you have it, little skald.” Tuuri was still silent as the woman slammed the door on her way out. 

 

Tuuri crawled into the empty bed, a stew of worries swirling inside. She had gotten her story, but at what cost? What wounds did it open up, what forgotten sadness? To a skald, preserving tales was their life’s work, but maybe… maybe some things were better left forgotten. She tried to imagine what it would be like, to lose someone and know yourself to be responsible. It was a horrible thought, one that gnawed at her soul like a dog chews a bone. For the first time in a long time, she thought of her brother, wondered where he was now. Wondered what he would say if he came to see her at Heimir’s house only to find her gone, against his wishes. He had left her there to keep her safe, after all, and here she was… 

Sigrun held her much tighter that night.

\---

As the sun creeped lazily over the horizon, Tuuri stood at the gate once again, facing the forest. She heard Sigrun’s ambling footsteps behind her before the woman’s hands reached around her to fasten a heavy cloak. “To keep you warm,” she said, but did not draw back. Tuuri raised her hand and felt the material. It was well-made, with a fur collar and a metal clasp. “I can’t…. I can’t take this,” she whispered, turning around. If she had been nervous to come here, now she did not know if she wanted to leave. 

Sigrun’s mouth curled into a smile. “I expect you to bring it back, little skald. Just like your saga.” 

Tears clouding her vision, Tuuri looked up, trying to return the smile. “I will. I will…,” she whispered. She thought of the warm bed and the crackling fire, of the valley stretching out beyond the hills, of rough hands on her skin, of soft sighs in the night. Her hand went up almost without her realizing it and grabbed the front of Sigrun’s tunic, pulling her down to Tuuri’s level. “I promise,” she said emphatically before pressing their lips together. The warrior’s eyes widened, then relaxed, wrapping her arms around the skald’s waist and lifting her up, up until her feet left the ground and she was holding onto Sigrun’s shoulders and laughing.  

Finally, Tuuri took a deep breath and began to walk back towards the forest. She did not turn to look back. 

 

The moons turned, taking with them the snows of winter and the seeds of spring. Tuuri found herself again in her tiny world of quill and parchment, though she did not easily forget what she had learned and seen on her journey. Heimir was hesitant when she delivered to him the news of Sigrun’s decision, but eventually he relented. “Perhaps it is better this way,” he said to his apprentice one evening, admiring her handiwork on the latest set of pages. “I am an old man now, and my eyes are clouded with years. I can only hope to pass on what I know to you and the others before I am taken from this world.” 

\---

A full year after she ventured away from her hall for the first time in nearly a decade, Tuuri found herself once again deep in the forest, surrounded by a myriad sounds and smells. She had been afraid she would not remember the way, as her first time had been a journey of false starts and detours, chasing rumors and campfire tales - but her feet had carried her through the woods and the valley as an arrow flying towards its target. As she neared the edge of the wood, her heart began to beat faster, but this time it was not with fear, but excitement. There it was, that little house with its chickens and fish on a line, its gate slightly askew. And there she was, red hair shining in the sunlight, stringing a bow. 

“Sigrun!!” Tuuri called out, running down towards the gate. The warrior met her with a fierce embrace, ushering her inside quickly.    
“Did you finish it, then? Your saga?”    
“Yes,” Tuuri said, pausing to catch her breath. “I … I brought it for you to see.” She carefully took a cloth-wrapped bundle from her satchel and presented it to Sigrun. The woman ran her hands over the embossed cover. “It is marvellous. You will have to read it to me. Tonight! I will get my finest wine.” She grinned, and Tuuri returned her smile. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to send asks/follow me on [tumblr](http://solosvejs.tumblr.com)


End file.
